Earlier in the spring, catepillars literally fell from the trees. When I walked, I had to avoid stepping on them as they inched across the sidewalks headed to their next meal. The catepillars chomp on leaves all day. Do they know what’s coming? Was there ever a catepillar who just dug their many heels in and said, “I aint going to the cocoon!” “I don’t want to be a pupa!”

I suppose along our lives, we face these transitions and transformations. We get comfortable inching along in our lives, content and simple. Munch, munch, munch. We have to avoid the predators that want to munch on us and the giants traipsing around squishing us flat on the hot concrete. But, by and large, the life of the catepillar is decent. I would agree, the cocoon sounds like a bad place. Like going to detention or jail. Solitary confinement. No food, no water, no light, no defenses and no control. The mechanisms of life churn onward, regardless of the efforts or will of the chrysalis. Then suddenly, the shell cracks. The veneer separates and we can emerge. Again, predators lurk to snatch us up. And we are much better targets now. We have wings. We fluttter. We are captivating and beautiful. Our colors and markings are astonishing. And most especially, we can FLY. We also have important jobs. We pollinate the world. We are vital and necessary while we are beautful.

The process to get to this state is nearly miraculous. I supposed God could have made butterflies straight away. Why bother with the whole catepillar, pupa, cocoon garbage? Why risk it?

It is precisely the PROCESS that counts. The reward is graduating to butterfly but the struggle to survive and thrive is the primary objective. Some bugs don’t make it. They get picked off by frogs or lizards or birds or nasty little kids with coffee cans. But, the hearty (and the lucky) survive. They are the grace.